The Eighth Rule
by peter-pan-equals-luv
Summary: *COMPLETE* FightClub!Klaine Blaine forgets the eighth rule of Fight Club and has to deal with the consequences. Spoilers for Hold On To Sixteen


**A/N: Thanks to all these fight club posts on Tumblr, I wrote this.**

**Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking, but I hope you enjoy :)**

"So, Finn told me something interesting."

Blaine looked over to see Kurt leaning against the door to his bedroom. He turned from his desk, homework ignored in favour of paying attention to his boyfriend. "Oh, yeah, what's that?" he asked, grinning.

"He said you started a fight club at Dalton." Kurt moved across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Blaine let out a small laugh and nodded. "Why did I never know about it?"

"First rule of fight club is you don't talk about fight club," Blaine said, winking. Kurt rolled his eyes, though he could stop a small grin. "Why the interest?"

Kurt's eyes flicked down, one long finger idly tracing shapes on the bedspread. "I want to go with you the next time."

"Why?" Eyebrows furrowed, he leaned over and grasped Kurt's hand. "I'm not saying no, I'm just wondering."

"I just want to see what it's about, that's all."

Blaine let out a breath, considering. "The next meeting is Saturday. Be here at eight."

Kurt's nose wrinkled, the stench of body odor strong even from outside of the warehouse. He didn't say anything, only followed Blaine, Nick and Trent as they walked into the building, laughing and taking the mick on each other. They were all dressed in loose clothes, sweats and hoodies, and Kurt knew that Blaine has a muscle shirt on underneath his. He had asked Blaine what he should wear and was told to go casual, since he would only be observing, but not to wear any of his nice clothes.

Inside, Kurt's eyes are drawn instantly to the bloodstains on the floor and suddenly it all becomes real. His breath quickened and he rushed to keep up with Blaine, who was standing on the edge of the circle starting to form around Wes.

The doors slam shut and Wes began to speak.

"Welcome to Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is _you DO NOT talk about Fight Club_. The third rule of Fight Club: if someone yells stop, goes limp, or taps out, fight's over. The fourth rule: only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule: one fight at a time. Sixth rule: no shirts, no shoes. Seventh rule: fights will go on as long as they have to. Eighth and final rule: if it's your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight."

Wes looked at Kurt when he says the last rule and Blaine stiffened beside him. "No, he's just observing."

"Rules are rules, Blaine. He's here, he has to fight." Kurt thought he saw a flicker of regret flash across Wes' face, but it was gone, replaced with a stern look. "Who wants to fight the new guy?"

"I will," Blaine said before anyone else could open their mouths. He'd already stripped off his hoodie, bouncing lightly on his feet. "Take off your shirt and shoes, Kurt." He wouldn't look at him and Kurt sighed, working the buttons through their holes with shaking fingers.

He laid his things with Blaine's, shivering in the cold of the warehouse, dressed only in his loosest pair of pants, and twisted his torso, stretching muscles and mentally preparing himself to fight his boyfriend. A physical fight, one with the potential for either of them to be injured.

Kurt's eyes narrowed as he stepped into the ring of boys, his breath even and relaxed.

Blaine couldn't look at Kurt. This was his fault, he should have never brought Kurt, but he's going to make up for by making sure these guys don't hurt Kurt. They just have to make it through tonight and then Kurt never has to come here again, he'll be safe.

Wes looked at them and both nodded, signaling that they were ready. "Fight!" he cried, stepping back into the circle.

Blaine cleared his mind, determined to make this as short a fight as possible. His eyes flicker across Kurt's face to find those blue eyes he loves so much narrowed and those long pianist hands curled into fists and held in a defensive position.

He spends too long watching his face and doesn't see him move until it too late and pain was flaring across his jaw. His head snapped back, surprise evident. He didn't expect Kurt to hit him _so hard_ and he can't help the spike of arousal that shot straight to his groin.

The next how many ever minutes are a blur. He struggled slightly to get the advantage and actually keep it. Kurt is fearless, striking with precision and a fierce determination. His blows landed with more power than Blaine had thought possible in the lithe boy. His blue eyes are hard and he can't help but wonder when his boyfriend became such a badass.

Winning the fight took more than he thought he would need, but he managed to get Kurt to tap out and they broke apart. Breathing hard, Blaine helped Kurt up and they limped to the side. Blaine pointedly ignored Wes' smirk, that "don't assume stuff, Anderson" look that he had sported since Kurt's first swing.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, looking over Kurt's injuries. Definitely not the worst that he had seen and he had tried to stay away from that perfect face.

Kurt leaned forward, pressing their lips together as one hand came up to card through Blaine's sweaty curls. Their tongues dueled as Kurt pushed him against the wall, neither minding their sore bodies as their chests pressed together.

"Let's go to your house," Kurt growled, pulling away and breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against Blaine's. He nodded, lacing their fingers together and leading him out, pausing only to grab their clothes and shoes. "And I want to come back next time," Kurt added, squeezing his hand lightly and wincing as the movement pulled at the cuts on his knuckles.

Blaine grinned, pulling him in for a kiss. "I'd like that."


End file.
